Hatred Via Postal
by NeonAbomination
Summary: Hatred Guy was always alone, and hated everyone. But, one day, he gets teleported to a little town called Paradise. Can he make a friend with Postal Dude? Read on as they go on wacky adventures together through a week in the life of Postal Dude.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1: Names are for friends. So I don't need one.

"My name is not important. What is important is what I'm going to do ... I just fuckin' hate this world. And the human worms feasting on its carcass. My whole life is just cold, bitter hatred. And I always wanted to die violently. This is the time of vengeance and no life is worth saving. And I will put in the grave as many as I can. It's time for me to kill. And it's time for me to die."

The man who thought these words was a guy who had had enough. He was not tired. He was not depressed. There were no feelings of sorrow left within his body. No. Guy... was angry. He was angry at his parents for treating him as though he was a useless piece of meat who they didn't even want, someone who was only good for beating. He was angry at the people around him, those who lived lives of luxury and joy, while he had to suffer at the hands of the bullies as a child, while everyone else looked on and ignored his cries for help. He was angry at the entire universe for forcing him into this life... his life. A life where no matter how hard he tried, no matter what he did, the entire world seemed to be against him. And finally, he was angry with himself.

Guy always thought to himself as a child that he would not let his parents bring him down. That he would not let the bullies get to him. He thought to himself, that he was stronger than them. Maybe not physically, but he believed that he was smarter, and that he could keep his spirits high, and one day rise up above all these people that treated him with nothing but sheer hatred, and that one day, he would show them his true worth. But not like this. He never thought it would have to come to this. Yet, how else could it have ended for him? Even well into his adulthood, he never had a chance. His teachers never tried to help him, being too busy with taking bribes from other students parents. His own parents never taught him any skills (unless you count being able to take vast amounts of abuse as a skill). No decent paying job would hire him on account of his intimidating appearance, dark clothes (as though he ever had a choice of what he could wear, the trench coat he wore was one of the only things he had that passed for clothing, and even that was debatable), and his lack of skills. He never even had a friend in his life. Never a single person to share his feelings with, and open up to. Guy was all alone, with only his own mind to keep him company. And Guy had had enough.

But today, all that was going to change. Guy was finally going to get retribution for what the world had done to him. He was finally going to get revenge on those who had hurt him. And Guy was finally going to die. He would finally be released from the cruel existence that was his life, but he wouldn't go down without showing the world his true worth. He had prepared for this day for years, all while living in a broken down house that even rats would be ashamed to call home. He had been gathering up the small amounts of money that he had earned from whatever place would take him. He had purchased weapons. An assault rifle. Ammo. Grenades. And a knife. As he assembled his weapons, the thoughts of his past came back to haunt him, as they always did. The memories of his mothers stiletto heel piercing his cheek like that of a bullet. The memories of the school bullies laughing as they would throw him down steep hills and into mud, and then beat him until he could not move. Everything came rushing back. In that moment, it would be clear to anyone who could even take a small glimpse into his mind that... all the spirit he had as a child. All the determination to strive to be better. All the hope for a better life... it was all gone. At that moment, he had nothing in his heart... nothing... but hatred. Hatred for the humans that the world calls his family. Hatred for the people the world calls his teachers. Hatred for every single human being that had ever existed on the planet Earth.

His name was not important. He had long since abandoned any care for what others called him. The only thing that was left at that moment, was hatred. And Hatred Guy was ready. He was ready to step out onto the streets that had raised him to be the way he was. And he was ready to leave his own mark on these streets, as they did on him.

"My genocide crusade begins here."

Hatred Guy stepped outside his house. His fingers were resting on the trigger of his weapon. He could see all the miserable human scum walking around outside. All of them, feeling so safe and secure. So content with their ignorance. But that was all about to change. Hatred Guy raised his weapon, and aimed. As he pulled the trigger, for the first time in his life, Hatred Guy felt powerful...

...Nothing would escape his sights...

...Nothing would escape his fury...

...Nothing...

...would escape...

...his hatred.

(MEANWHILE, IN ANOTHER PART OF THE WORLD, IN A SMALL TOWN KNOWN AS PARADISE...)

"Christ, it's as hot as the Devils rectum in here. When did we move to hell?"

Postal Dude was a simple dude. He lived a simple life in a trailer with his simple wife and dog, he did simple chores and worked at a simple job, making ends meet, he wore a simple trench coat, and simple glasses, oh, and he lived in a fucking turbo insane-o fuckville where everyone and everything tried to kill him, and where death and violence is so common that people just shrug off seeing police officers shoot people right in front of them, and where if a couple of people die here and there, no question are raised by police and everyone just moves on in life. This was a little town known as Paradise, and Postal Dude lived there because of videogames.

"You were the one who insisted on relocating for that stupid video game job!"

His wife (whom he lovingly refers to as "the Bitch") was one of the few people who could stand being around the nihilistic and sociopathic Dude. Not being the epitome of kindness herself, the Bitch and Dude found themselves to be drawn to one another, and finally became married, and then proceeded to live in a fucking trailer.

"Yeah well crack doesn't buy itself you know..."

Dude got out of bed, and tried to turn on the air conditioning.

"Why isn't the AC on?"

Dude realised why.

"...Broken."

Dude weighted his options at that moment. Dude was a simple man, and he liked to solve problems with simple solutions. Dude did what Dude does in such a situation.

He shot the air conditioner.

Dude didn't think that would work, but it was more of a way for him to release some tension more than any sort of attempt to fix the problem. Dude then proceeded to trip over a bunch of shit.

"Ah shit."

His wife heard this shit going on.

"When you're done screwing around, I've made a list of errands for you on the fridge!" she yelled to him.

"Jesus woman..."

Dude walked to the fridge.

"Where's the milk?" he asked the Bitch.

"It's on the damn list!" she exclaimed back to him.

"I'll put you on a damn list..." muttered Dude, clearly showing off his love for her.

Despite his occasional claims, the Dude found some pleasure in filling out the tasks that his wife asked of him. Postal Dude felt some sense of purpose as he crossed things off the list, and yet, the tasks were often simple, which he liked. Dude didn't want to feel stressed. He wasn't sure why, but he knew that to him, stress was one of his worse enemies, and he would do whatever he could to avoid it. Dude learned to take things in stride, and accept that whatever happens will happen, whether he's happy or sad. That didn't mean things didn't annoy him though, like his beloved wife occasionally did.

Finally dressed and ready for the day ahead of him, Dude stepped outside into Paradise. The fresh air, the birds chirping, the beautiful trees and bushes all around him, embracing him, welcoming him to enjoy the pleasures of nature...

...oh, and his dog, Champ, pissing right in front of his damn shoe.

"WHAT THE-" Dude exclaimed, as he punted his dog right in the fucking stomach, leaving the beast to whimper and run away out of their yard.

"Ach, stupid dog..."

"Don't let the dog out!" said the Bitch.

"Crap" said Dude. Not even 2 steps outside and already everything was awful. Such is life in Paradise.

"AND DON'T FORGET MY ROCKEY ROAD!" the Bitch yelled to her beloved husband.

"Yeah yeah, whatever..."

Dude wasn't having a good day. He went over to his car and got in.

"Let me guess" Dude said as he turned the key, only for the car to stutter, and not start up.

"I can tell this is going to be an interesting day..."

As Dude just casually accepted the shit life threw at him and looked over what daily errands he had before him, he could have never predicted what was about to happen, and how it would change his life forever.

(MEANWHILE, BACK AT THE LOCATION OF HATRED GUY)

Death. There was only death as far as the eye could see. Bodies to the left. Bodies to the right. Men, women, police officers, army units, all lying in an eternal slumber. There were bullet wounds, knife wounds, shrapnel lodged in necks, charred corpses, decapitated heads, even crushed body parts. Who would have thought that one guy could do all this? And yet, Hatred Guy wasn't done. No, he wasn't done until he was dead like all the pathetic scum that came before him, and he had no intention of that happening any time soon. Guy had waiting his whole life for this. He had taken every opportunity to make his genocide last as long as possible, and claim as many lives as he could. Guy took all the body armour and weapons from police stations that he could carry, and then when the army was called in, he took from them as well. He was fast. He was accurate. He took all the punishment his opponents dished out and returned it back to them 100 fold. Guy's hatred was so intense, even the wounds he did receive hardly even made him flinch. Soon, the sound of bullets firing became background noise, and all that mattered was the thud as gravity the bodies hit the floor. None expected one man to be capable of all this, and yet, he proved them wrong. He proved all of them wrong.

"GODDAMNIT WHY ARE ALL MY MEN DYING!"

Despite sitting safely inside of his base, the military General, Gorrister, was not happy. One man. He was only one man. And yet, Guy had managed to take out so many of his valuable troops. How? Were they underestimating him? They were trained not to underestimate threats! How was this possible? Would they be forced to send tanks and more choppers to take out this one psychopath? How could one man be so deadly? He had to think. But as soon as he fell silent, one of his trusted scientists offered a suggestion.

"Zir, mightn't ve try zee teleporter ray?"

"The ray?" the General replied, "Not only did you tell me that shit was a fucking prototype, but it's a FUCKING TELELPORTER! Why in the name of GOD would you want to use the ray!?"

"Zir, zee ray IZ a prototype. Zee long range beam works. Our satellite allows us to use zee ray on any area ve vish vithin a 2000 mile rahdiooz. But, zee teleportation doez not work properly. Zee chances are zat zis man vill joost die from hiz molecules being pulled ahpart und zen scattered! All ve haf to do is fire it on hiz position, und zen all our problems are solved, ja?"

"WELL WHY DIDN'T YOU MENTION THIS BEFORE?! USE THE GODDAMN RAY YOU NO GOOD EXCUSE FOR A GERMAN SCIENTIST!"

"Ja, mien General."

The scientist climbed up to the ray control panel, and zeroed in on the position of Hatred Guy.

"Auf wiedersehen, you verdammt homofuerst."

The scientist pressed the button.

Hatred Guy saw the light. He didn't think much of it. Maybe he was shot in the head, and now angels had come down to judge him, before he got dragged down into hell. It didn't matter to him. All that mattered was that he still had a weapon in his hands, and he still heard screams. His mission was not done yet. And yet... he felt something. His whole body was changing. As if it was being moved against his will. His vision blurred. He lost control of his movement. He could barely stand. And then... white. Only white. Hatred Guy couldn't see anything. Where did his prey go? Was this heaven? Did he actually earn a place in eternal paradise? Hatred Guy wasn't sure yet, but he slowly felt himself getting control back.

Back at the military base, the General has a smile on his face. The deed was done. The sociopath was gone. No more death. No more lost men. A victory had been achieved. The scientist stood tall and proud of the machine which he helped in building. Knowing that for his act, perhaps a pay rise was in order. Suddenly, another scientist walked into the room.

"Sorry I am late General. I slept in a little too late. NIMDOK! My friend! I have good news!" the woman said.

"Yes, Ellen, vat iz it? Ve are celebrating a victory ourselves!" Nimdok said to her.

"Well, remember how I stayed up all night working on the teleporter?" Ellen said with a smile.

"Yes, I do... und vat about it?" Nimdok said curiously.

"Well, I finally fixed the issue with molecules not reassembling correctly! We are still a far way away from actually teleporting stuff to where we want it, bu-"

"YOU DID WHAT!?" screamed the General. "DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT YOU MIGHT HAVE JUST DONE!? WE JUST TELEPORTED A CRAZED KILLER TO GOD KNOWS WHERE, AND YOU'RE STANDING HERE SMILING!?"

"General, please" said Nimdok. "Like she vaz saying. Ve cannot control vhere ze teleporter sendz ze target. Most likely, he iz in ze vacuum of space, und already dead. Zere is naffing to vurry about."

Hatred Guy felt that he could stand again, his body was returning back to him. He felt dizzy, but he pushed through it. He couldn't let his guard down. A single shot could end everything he had worked to achieve. He wouldn't let that happen. As he opened his eyes and the smoke around him cleared, before him, he saw some stairs, some trees, and a house. Everything seemed so much more colourful here, but he couldn't understand why. He noticed he was missing all his weapons, and the armour he had was gone. Was this Heaven? Was this eternal paradise?

He didn't have much time to wonder, since as soon as he regained his sense of self, he heard someone behind him.

"You gotta be fuckin' kidding. I didn't expect THAT. Man, I gotta stop smoking this crap."

Hatred Guy turned around to look eye to eye with whoever make that sound. What sort of drugged up maniac would just stand there instead of running for his life? As he took a look at the man, and gazed upon his orange goatee and brown trench coat, complete with an alien head shirt, he heard one more thing come from the man's mouth.

"Hi there! Welcome to Paradise!"


	2. Chapter 2

Hatred Via Postal: Just another one of those days.

Postal Dude had seen some weird shit in his life. He had seen a child chasing a gorilla with a stick. He had witnessed a black woman murder 28 Ku Klux Klan members in a drunken rage. Heck, he even once met a feminist who wasn't a complete screaming bitch! But this... this was new. Not once did he ever think he'd see a man appear on his yard out of absolutely nowhere, leaving some smoke and a small crater in his wake.

Hatred Guy was even more confused by this turn of events. One second, he was slaughtering people by the hundreds on the street like cattle, dodging gunfire, and executing all those who tried to stop him from completing his crusade. The next second, he was in a colourful town, looking at a man who seemed as though he was more concerned about the new hole in his yard, rather than the bringer of death who stood before him. This couldn't have been real, and yet, he could smell the fresh air, he could feel the ground beneath him, he could hear the birds, and he saw the man. It was real all right, and he wanted answers.

"Who are you?" Hatred Guy asked Postal Dude.

"I'd like to know the same thing! ...Not who I am, mind you, I mean, but who... you... are... look, just tell me your damn name," replied Postal Dude.

"I'm the one asking the fucking questions here!" said Hatred Guy as he took a step towards at Postal Dude.

"Whohoh, look at this tough guy!" Dude said as he raised his hands in front of him in a sarcastic gesture. "Look, just relax for a second before you burst a blood vessel or something. My name is Postal Dude, and you're in a little town called Paradise!"

"Postal... Dude...?" Hatred Guy said, confused. "Is this some kind of fucking joke?"

"You know, that's funny. I always used to ask my parents the same thing!" Dude replied, with a smile on his face.

"How did I get here?" Hatred Guy asked.

"Well, when a mommy and daddy have a night of drunken sex, and the daddy forgets to use protection..." began the Dude.

"How did I get TO THIS TOWN!" interrupted Guy.

"You know, I'd love to know that as well. I really would. I was just standing here, minding my own business, and then suddenly, I see this flash of blinding white light, and there's a hole in my yard with you in it. Thanks for that by the way, I needed a spot to plant my flowers," said Dude.

"This isn't right... Am I dead? Is this Heaven?" asked Guy.

"You're not dead, but you'll probably wish you were soon. Maybe that hole in the ground will be useful for your corpse after you put a bullet in your own head. Sorry to break it to you, but this isn't Heaven. This is about as far as you can get from it. Honestly, I'm not sure who decided to name this town 'Paradise', but they must have had a wicked sense of humour," said the dude. "You know, it's not very polite to start asking all these questions without giving me your own name. Mind letting me in on that?"

"My name is not important," said Hatred Guy.

"Notem Portant, huh, you from Denmark or something?" asked Dude.

"Who the fuck do you think you are? You worthless worm. I'll fucking gut yo-"

"Hey c mon buddy, it was a joke. You gotta develop a sense of humour if you want to survive around here. I know this place looks peaceful enough, but it's not as innocent as it looks. Everyone around here is a fucking psychopath. I don't go a day without seeing someone die, and no one does anything to stop the murderers. Oh sure, police show up, but they're just as violent as the rest of the psycho's in this town. Plus, they have the attention spans of goldfish, and once they lose sight of you for a while, they just forget about you and go back to eating donuts," Dude explained.

"So, anyway, why don't you tell me your story? Maybe we can figure this whole thing out," said Dude.

"My whole life has been nothing but cold, bitter hatred. Everyone that I have ever met in my life has been useless scum, existing to making my own life worse. I just fucking hate the world, and the only thing that brings me a feeling even remotely close to joy is watching others die," said Hatred Guy.

"Awwww, c mon, you sound like you just need a hug, big guy," said Dude.

"If you think that I will not kill you just because I don't know where I am, then think again. You're really starting to piss me off," said Hatred Guy.

"Owch, Christ man, I feel like you cut me with that edge," said Dude.

"What was that?" asked Guy menacingly.

"Nothing," said Dude. "Hey, listen though, you sound like you'll fit right in here, but you'll need someone to show you to ropes. How about you and me go for a walk?"

"Why should I listen to you? Why shouldn't I end your life right now?" said Guy.

"Well, for one thing, you want to see people die, and I promise you, there's plenty of that going on around here. You don't need to kill me for it, just walk down the street and you'll see! Second, I'm bored, and you're probably the most interesting source of conversation for miles. Finally, maybe you can help me, and in return, I can help you get back to where you want to be! I've got quite a way with people you know," said Dude.

Hatred Guy considered his options. He wanted nothing more but to kill people, and yet, he had no weapons. He was strong, but he knew that without weapons, he wouldn't last long. If this man was telling the truth, then maybe he could get back to his streets and finish what he started. He had made up his mind.

"Fine. I'll come with you. But what do you need my help with?" Guy said.

"Well... first things first..." said the Dude, as he pulled out a map.

"I need milk."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Monday

"Human scum. They've always felt so fucking safe... inside their homes. Surrounded by the possessions gathered their whole life. So weak. So fragile. They don't deserve a natural death. Unconsciously waiting to be obliterated by my hatred. Those parasites think their walls can save them. But I will destroy everything they own... and everything they are..."

"GAWD What's that awful stench?! Did somebody slaughter a goat in here? No, seriously, I wanna know!"

Hatred Guy wasn't expecting this. It would be fair to say that he didn't know what to expect when he suddenly appeared in a town called Paradise after a flash of white light had taken him from his hated home, but he did not expect this. One moment, shooting people and blowing up buildings, and mere minutes later, buying milk at an Indian grocery shop with a man who seemingly didn't have any sense of self preservation, like the sort that would make someone run away from a person that appeared out of mid air in a flash of light, or the common sense that stopped people from making such rude statements in front of people they were trying to buy milk from. And yet, here he was. A witness to the man who called himself "Postal Dude", if that was even his real name.

As Postal Dude and Hatred Guy walked out of the store, Hatred Guy watched. He watched as Dude seemed to check a map every few minutes, despite giving the appearance that he had lived in this town for years. He watched as every now and then, a lone person would be running from a police officer, while the police officer did their best to catch up and beat them. Finally, he watched the people. Things were different here. In a way, things were the same, but they were so very different. People here were cruel to each other, much like they were to him back in his town. But the cruelty these people showed was so much more direct, and so much more open. People would insult each other on the street for the smallest thing. Even accidentally bumping into someone else was met with insults. And yet, he also noticed how people were not using keys when walking into their house. Why would these people not lock their doors with all this aggression around them, Hatred Guy would question. Why were the people here so open about everything, feelings, homes, everything. Were these people... looking for violence? Did they keep their doors open just so they had a reason to shoot whoever dared step foot into their homes? It confused him even more. Hatred Guy was used to everyone ignoring his cries for help, but here, it was as though people were not even ignoring what was around them, but rather, they did not actually see anything at all! They did not walk faster to get away from scenes, they did not look away. No... if they were walking, they kept walking, if they were whistling, they kept whistling. Unless their own life was in danger, they did nothing. It was all so bizarre, almost as if Hatred Guy had arrived in another world entirely. His thoughts were cut short, as Postal Dude and him had arrived at their next destination.

"Now, I gotta go get my pay check" said Dude.

"What sort of job could someone like you possible have?" questioned Hatred Guy.

"I work for a video game company. And I know what you're thinking, but the funny thing is... I don't even like video games!" replied the Dude.

As they climbed the stairs into the Dudes company, there were several protesters walking around in a circle with signs, right outside the building. They were chanting "GAMES ARE BAD! THEY MAKE YOU MAD!" over and over again, despite there being literally no one around to hear them except for Hatred Guy and Postal Dude.

"Just ignore them," said Dude. "They've never even played a video game in their lives. They probably just saw their son playing a game for a few seconds where he happened to shoot a zombie or something, and then decided that means the game was training him to become some kinda lunatic. There are people who can't actually understand that games have story, and when they see their child playing, they believe that the game just put them in this world filled with guns and violence and told them to murder. Crazy huh? What kind of game would do that? Not even give the player a reason to care about what's going on, and just tell them to go and murder innocent people? That shit would never fly in today's world, Notem, NEVER."

As they walked through the building, Hatred Guy didn't argue. He was too busy trying to understand what those people thought they were accomplishing. Their straightforward idiocy was refreshing in a way, though not much less annoying.

They finally arrived to the room of Dudes boss. As they walked in, the boss looked at Dude, and without a single second of hesitation, said...

"Nothing personal man, but you're fired."

And then he started laughing.

Hatred Guy thought that finally, something had happened that would mess with Dude's head. That he would finally react as though something bad had happened.

"But I just started yesterday," said Dude, sounding surprised, yet calm.

As the boss started laughing even harder, Hatred Guy wasn't even sure if the Dude was joking or not. Once again, the directness of the boss had caught him off guard, and the entire situation was becoming more confusing by the second. Even at the run-down low-pay places he had worked at, his bosses always tried to tip-toe around firing employees, but here? In this large, well decorated building, it took no more than 3 seconds of face to face contact to fire someone. Hatred Guy had to do a double take to make sure he understood what was going on.

"Your check is on my desk. Go get it," the boss said to Dude.

Meanwhile, outside the building, the protesters were getting tired, and finally, one of them yelled "WHO'S WITH ME!" as he pulled out a pistol. He yelled "COME ON EVERYONE! FOLLOW ME!" and ran into the building, with all the other protesters following him, armed and ready.

As Dude collected the check, the door to the office was knocked open, and there was a group of protesters on the other side, waiting to shoot at whoever was inside. As they raised their guns, Hatred Guy felt his heart stop.

"No.. it can't end like this..." he thought to himself. "I can't die now," and yet, as the protester raised her gun, he knew he didn't have enough time to dodge the bullet. It was over.

It's funny how time seems to move slowly when you are in danger. As the body releases adrenaline into its system, as the mind tries as hard as it can to process the danger, everything just slows down, to give the human in danger the highest chance for survival, but Hatred Guy wasn't thinking about this. He was thinking about the pair of scissors that seemed to be slowly flying through the air, which ended up firmly embedding themselves into the protesters head, just before she was about to pull the trigger. As her body fell to the floor, Guy turned to see Postal Dude with another pair of scissors, who then looked at him, and said...

"GET DOWN IF YOU DON'T WANNA DIE!"

Hatred Guy's world started returning back to normal speed as he understood what was going on, and he slammed the door shut and dived to the door behind them, with Dude following. As he got up, Dude told him "Follow me," and gestured to another door. Guy was in no position to argue, and left the room with Dude, into another room with a large desk in it. As guy was leaving the room to get out of the building, he saw Postal Dude grabbing something from under the desk.

"You know how to use one of these?" Dude said as he threw a pistol to Guy, "Or do I have to show you a tutorial?"

As they left the room and went out the back exit of the building, it was clear that the protesters were causing trouble outside the building as well, as they were engaging in fire fights with both civilians and police. One of the protesters saw Dude and Guy and tried to attack, but Dude and Guy were quicker, and both shot him in the head before he had a chance to fire, one bullet his each of his eyes.

"Jackpot," said Dude, as the body slumped to the floor.

Hatred Guy took a second to gaze upon the sight before him. Everyone was shooting, everyone was dying, and yet, as soon as people got out of the direct line of fire, they went right back to their daily lives, almost as though they had forgotten about what had just happened. He didn't get a chance to watch for much longer, as he could hear Dude calling to him behind a fence.

As he climbed over the fence and was back with Dude, he noticed that even Dude seemed to return into a state of calmness, and was once again looking at his map, looking for his next location. Hatred Guy didn't understand, and questions bubbled in his mind.

"One more stop!" said Dude, as he checked his map again. And just like that, they were off, one more time, with Hatred Dude trying to understand the new world around him, and feeling as though no matter the answers he came up with, he would be wrong.

The final stop for the day for Postal Dude and Hatred Guy was the bank, where Postal Dude would cash his pay check. Everything seemed to be pretty normal, and the long waiting lines reassured Hatred Guy that maybe things weren't so different after all.

Sadly, a group of robbers with shotguns stopped those feelings short, and once again they had to escape the building while the police and robbers were shooting at each other, not caring about who they hit in the crossfire. After the made it outside, Hatred Guy looked at Dude, who was smiling, happy to have completed his errands.

"Postal Dude..." he said to Dude.

"Yeah, what's up Notty?" replied Dude.

"I don't understand. Why aren't you afraid? Why don't you run and hide? Why aren't you running home to be with your family? You could have been killed. I could have been killed. And yet, here we are. We got out, but you act like absolutely nothing even happened. I know you said that everyone here was crazy, but you have a family, you seem to be happy, you seem to enjoy life. Where I come from, everyone is afraid of dying. People run from it, and the few who fight do so so they can earn money and continue living. Why do you not fear death?"

Postal Dude stopped and looked at the ground, and seemed to think for a moment. After a short while, he gave his answer.

"...The earth is hungry. Its heart throbs and demands cleansing. The Earth is also thirsty..."

He turned his gaze to Hatred Guy.

"There are many people in this world who have done awful things. Humanity itself is cruel, and has caused so much suffering to not only ourselves, but to everything around us. I don't know what is truly good or evil, as it is society that has attached definition to these words, I can only trust the way I feel. I don't know if I deserve to live or not, but I know that, even if I die, it's not a bad thing, so I may as well enjoy life as best as I can, and not waste time worrying about what could have happened, and rather, focus on what's going to happen, and change it to suit my wants and needs. Believe it or not, but life used to be a lot worse for me."

"What do you mean?" asked Guy.

"I don't remember. It's all a haze now. But I remember it was worse. Maybe I'll remember someday soon. Maybe my past will become more clear to me. But the past isn't what's important to me any more. It's the future I care about, and for me, the future is Tuesday."

"Lets go home Notty. I have a place you can sleep. I know that maybe you want to go back home, but it's going to take a while for us to figure out how to manage that. I'll help you, but first, we should get some sleep."

"Why are you even helping me?" asked Guy. "You could have killed me the second you saw me, I can see that now. So why, why are you helping me?"

Dude looked at Guy. "Because Notty, in a way, I can see myself in you. While we are not truly alike, I can sense some similarity. No one ever helped me when I was in trouble, and I don't know how my life might have ended up if they did, but I don't want you to lose that chance. It's not too late, Notty. It's not."

As the two walked to Dude's trailer, Guy felt something inside him. Something he had not felt before. He did not know what it was, but it hurt.

His name was not important, but what of his feelings?

Maybe he would find out... soon.

F1


End file.
